


Cheesecake boy

by aishiterumo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiterumo/pseuds/aishiterumo
Summary: Were you in love with Han Jisung? Definitely, yes. Was he in love with you? You’re not so sure about that.





	Cheesecake boy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I edited this work to correct some typos :))

Were you in love with _Han Jisung_? Definitely, yes. Was he in love with you? You’re not so sure about that.

Everything started a few years ago, was it two years ago? Or three maybe? You don’t even know anymore. You were sitting in that coffee shop, a cheesecake in front of you—the last one from the shop actually—and a latte next to it. You hadn’t started to eat yet, way too focused on those papers—was it your history lessons or your literature ones? _Jisung_ sat in the empty spot opposite you and cleared his throat. You looked at him, confused. _Who was he?_ “_I’m sorry but, you took the last piece of cheesecake and you’re not even eating it. I really wanted to eat cheesecake today. Can I take yours? I’ll repay you._” Your first impression of him? _Rude, how can he just ask for **my** cheesecake like that? Just go somewhere else if you want one so badly_. But that’s not what you said, you smiled and gave him half of your cheesecake, asking him his phone numbers so you can ask him to repay you later.

What a weird way to start a conversation. He stayed sitting opposite you, eating half of your cheesecake—or maybe more than half, you barely touched it, way too immersed in your studies. He may have asked for you name, but you for sure didn’t gave him. Not that day, actually.

You called him three days later, sitting at that same spot in that same coffee shop. “_Um, cheesecake boy? Sorry, I don’t know your name and actually don’t want to know it. But you said you’d repay me, and I’d like to eat cheesecake today. You’re paying. I’m waiting for you, can you come?_” You had your wallet in hand, so sure he’d find an excuse not to come and pay. But he surprised you, saying he’s on his way. And he did show up, five minutes later, a smile on his face and he paid for your cheesecake. Now that you think back of that moment, how did you not see how beautiful he was? His slightly messy hair, his puffy cheeks and his wide smile. His eyes were definitely shining as they spot you in that crowded coffee shop.

You didn’t talk much, he was the one doing the talking, and you despised him for that. He never shut his mouth and he always had something to say, about anything, and he laughed to anything and nothing—especially nothing. _How can someone be this happy in life?_

You thought you’d never see him again, but now that he had your number, he started texting you. He never stopped and used too much emojis. _Cheesecake girl_ he called you. Was it because you called him _cheesecake boy_ once? Or because he met you thanks to a slice of cheesecake? He told you his name was _Han Jisung,_ but it took you months before calling him by his actual name—you preferred referring to him as _the annoying boy_.

He wasn’t tall, he wasn’t muscular, he wasn’t the top student either. _He has nothing for himself_, you thought at first. You were annoyed every time he spotted you on campus, waving widely in your directions and shouting “_Cheesecake girl_” for you to notice him. You did notice him, every time. But the first couple of time, you ignored him and smiled secretly when you heard _Jisung_’s friends laughing at him. With time, you started to see him pout each time you ignored him, and after almost six months of ignoring him on campus you started to wave back, which led him to come see you and talk with you. On campus. And everyone stared at you.

You weren’t popular back then, you were the nerdy girl no one—except your three or five friends—wanted to talk to. You scared people away, because you had a cold angry resting face, which actually was who you really were. You despised people—hated them even. You didn’t want to bother talking to people if it was a loss of time. And there was _Jisung_. A popular guy, because he liked people, he liked talking to people and he wanted to make everyone happy. Almost every student knew him, or at least knew about him.

Everyone was curious. _Why a popular kind-hearted guy wanted to be associated with a cold person like you?_ You were curious too. And so, you asked him. His smile disappeared instantly; his face distorted with pain. “_Well, because you’re not that cold? And because I like you._” You didn’t think much of it, at that time.

You let him talk to you every now and then, barely answering his texts unless it was important—and almost none of them were. He always sent you text to tell you he _saw a cute dog_, or that _his professor was late, _or _an actual jerk who can’t see his paper deserve a higher mark_, sometimes telling you that he _found a cute coffee shop that sells better latte_. Most of the texts you answered were _I have this exam next week and need help with that exercise_. In one word: study related. It was a bad idea, because it let to see him more often. You met him at the library, tutoring him for classes you had surprisingly in common. But you soon enough got kicked out of the library—was _Jisung_ banned from the library? You think so. He was too loud; he always had a remark to make and he liked to make everyone aware of it. He laughed too loudly, and he laughed a lot.

During spring, you tutored him in one of the open spaced on campus. Sitting on the grass, under a random tree—soon enough always being the same cherry tree—with your works spread in front of you. He liked seeing your face being hit by the sunlight, through the tree’s branches. He liked seeing your eyes focus on your papers, your bottom lip getting bitten between your teeth, your hair falling in front of your face.

During winter, you tutored him in that small coffee shop you met at. He always whined that another one sold better drinks, but you didn’t care. It was closer, and you liked the atmosphere there. You took pleasure reminding him you were only there to help him get better grades. And he always answered the same thing. “_I know, but my grades won’t go higher. I can only focus on you._”

You tutored him for half a year, spread on two academic year. You stopped in the middle of your last year of university, he asked you why. You told him you didn’t have time for him anymore. And you stopped replying to his texts. _Jisung _was disappointed to say the least, sad even. _What did he do?_

He still waved at you sometimes, but you never waved back. Once, he came all the way to you and confronted you, asking—yelling—if he did something wrong. “_Yes, you did._” And you left. After harassing you for weeks, sending you texts every hour, you accepted to meet with him. You just wanted to tell him, face-to-face, that you didn’t want to talk to him anymore. _But did you really?_

“_What did I do?”_

“_You talked to me.”_

“_What?”_

He was even more confused. And so, you explained, that that day when he first talked to you, he did wrong. That you didn’t like him and just wanted him to stop talking to you. “_And it took you more than a year to tell me that?_” now that he said it, you realised how ridiculous it sounded. But stubborn as you were, you just said “_Yes._” And got up from your seat, about to live the coffee shop. “_Go on a date with me._” You spun around, looking at him as coldly as you could, right in the eyes. “_Go on a date with me, so I can try to make you see that I’m not a bad person. If you still don’t like me after this date… I’ll stop talking to you._” You said _ok_ and left.

_It’s a friend date, one you’ll go to, eat whatever there is to eat, leave and text him you don’t want to see him again. Nothing else, nothing more_, you repeated to yourself while you got dressed. Then, why did you put on that leather skirt you liked so much? And took extra care doing your makeup? Why did you get a haircut a few days before? If you wanted to stop talking to him, why did you put so much efforts to look good on that day?

When you arrived at that small restaurant—which was weird by the way—_Jisung_ was shocked. “_Y-Your long hair! W-What… What happened?_” and the only thing you could mutter, while touching your now shoulder-length hair, was “_You don’t like it?_”

The whole dinner was awkward, he had stopped laughing loudly, stopped talking unnecessarily, and he almost never looked at you in the eyes—something he used to do, he always looked at people right in the eyes when he talked with them. He was weird, and you liked him better that way.

Shyly, at the end of that not-friend-date, he asked if you wanted him to stop talking to you. You surprised yourself answering “_Please, don’t stop._” His smile was the brightest you’ve ever seen.

Slowly, you were the first one to text him, asking him how his day was, what he did and if he needed help to study. You two got into long deep talks, about random things; _the stars, the universe, people_… Mostly subjects you liked the most, he didn’t despise them but he for sure liked talking about _music, nature,_ and_ food_ the most.

You got on three more dates before he told you he found you _pretty_. You laughed at first, thinking he was just pranking you. But when he put his hand on your cheek and his lips touched yours, so softly and slowly, you realised he wasn’t. You let your arms go around his neck, getting a tiny bit closer to him and letting him lead the kiss. You closed your eyes, smiling shyly while your lips moved slowly against his.

You shared your first kiss in front of that coffee shop he had told you about a year ago. You finally got to agree with him—their lattes were definitely better than the place you always went to. It wasn’t your last kiss, though. You held his hand, letting a slight pink blush creep its way on your cheeks, not daring to look at him even once. He intertwined your fingers and told you he _liked you_ a lot.

A week later, all campus knew you started dating. Rumours went around, _is he dating you as a bet? Are you the one faking it? _You ignored them, just wanting to enjoy the first light in your life.

You got out of university, _Jisung_ still had a year to go. You got an apartment out of campus, and he moved with you. It was weird, the first few weeks. You weren’t used to leaving with someone. You had already spent nights with him, it happened a few times that a date lasted too long and one of you got too lazy to head home. But that was weird. You got to sleep in the same bed every night, to try not to make him late in the morning for his classes—which meant not taking too much time in the shower and not monopolising the kitchen either. You got to see how he looked in the morning, before a shower, during a shower, after a shower, while cooking, doing chores, watching the TV, during his free time. You got to discover him during _exam period_, during his down time, and with his friend group.

You knew every single one of his close friends, and he knew yours—he actually knew all of your friends because you got less than ten, when he got a hundreds if not more and you didn’t want to bother knowing people he only talked to every two months. You didn’t despise his friends, but you did tell him quite a few times that _that one_ talked behind his back once, or _this one_ was looking suspicious.

You got a job at a mall. You had weird work hours and barely saw him anymore. You still saw him at your shared apartment, but it didn’t last long before the first fight reared its head.

You had woken up at 6am and went to take a shower. You were exhausted from how late you had gotten out of work the day before, and took your time feeling the warm water flow on your skin. You lost track of time. _Jisung_ got up at 6:30am and needed to take his shower before going to his 8am class. He had to leave at 7:45am. You were still in the shower at 6:35am. He banged loudly on the door, telling you to hurry up. You were too tired to move more rapidly, and still took your time. So, when you got out of the bathroom at 6:55am, _Jisung_ couldn’t hold his anger anymore and yelled at you. Yelling how childish you were, that he will for sure be late for his class unless he ran to campus, accusing you of taking an apartment way too far from campus on purpose, and a lot of other things you didn’t remember. The only thing you retorted was “_Why didn’t you join me in the shower, like you always do?_” He instantly got quiet, why didn’t he? Because he didn’t think of it. He eyed you angrily and got into the bathroom.

After that day, fights happened more often. He was the one starting most of them. Almost anything could anger him. You taking too long to cook? He yelled. You taking too long in the shower? He yelled. You getting out of work too late? He yelled. You spending time with your friends? He yelled. You not doing your part of the chores on time? He yelled. You leaving your pyjamas on the bed? He yelled. He almost did nothing but that, yelling. But when he did not, it was idyllic.

He was the sweetest man and you would beat yourself all of your life for not seeing that before. You spent hours looking at him, engraving in your mind how beautiful he was. His shiny sparkling eyes, his soft moist lips, his small nose and his almost always messy hair. You let your ear memorise how his voice was raspy in the morning, shaky when he was sleepy or sad, but so sweet the rest of the time.

Sadly, what you wanted to forget the most was deeply engraved in your mind. How his pupils were shaky every time he yelled at you, how his eyes were getting bigger and bigger to the point it was just two big round orbs in the middle of his face, how his lips were getting chapped, his face was slowly getting red—starting from his neck up to his forehead. Or how you could see every single one of his veins.

_Jisung_ was kind. _Jisung_ was sweet and you loved him to the moon and back. You would’ve given the world to him. But with time, you saw his love for you fade away. When you went on date, at first, you could see how his eyes were getting more and more sparkly when he spotted you in a crowded place. Now? You didn’t even go on dates.

When you first got your job, he offered you flowers, would do a bit more chores and cook your dinner. It lasted a week. When he first moved out with you, he joked that it was far from campus and you offered to get an apartment closer; he had refused saying this one was perfect, and he didn’t mind walking a bit in the morning.

What happened to him? What happened to you? You weren’t quite sure. But at one point, it became too much. He’d stop doing his part of the chores, stop going to buy groceries, start sleeping on the couch, isolating himself to study, and one day he just wasn’t there anymore. His clothes were there, his bathroom necessities were there, but he was not. Later, you learned he slept at a friend’s place. You got to know that, because it happened more and more often. To the point you neighbour asked you if you _were okay after your break-up_.

_Jisung_ was still the light of your life, the love of your life even. But he wasn’t there anymore. He came one day; you were at work. He took his belongings and left. He only left you a note, saying he’d pass by the day after to explain himself. You cried. It might have been the first time you cried in all your life.

The day after, he came. _Jisung_ never breaks his promises. He came and handed you his keys. “_I can’t live with you anymore. I can’t see you anymore. I think I despise you, even. Every little thing you do makes me angry and I don’t like that._” You remained silent. “_I don’t like you anymore. I don’t even know if you ever liked me one bit. I’m not even myself with you._” And then it hit you.

You didn’t like him; you liked the image he created of himself. You didn’t like his loud self; you didn’t like how happy he was all the time. You hated how he was naturally. And so, he changed, for you. And you liked him. You liked his fake self. You never talked about things he liked—when he started the subject you’d stop listening or tell him to stop talking. He always made things for you. You never made anything for him. You never let him be his true self and he just got enough. Enough of being fake. Enough of you. And you let him go.

He wasted three years of your life, but now you know. You didn’t like _Han Jisung_, he was the one who liked you. But now, you two got your own ways and it was better this way.


End file.
